Rewrite of: Legends of the Four Worlds
by Juli Beawr
Summary: Post-Twilight Princess. Ganondorf is back. At least, everyone thinks he is. Who else would be allying with the bulbins and causing havoc through Hyrule? Though this villian doesn't only want Hyrule.(S)He wishes to enslave each of the four worlds: Hyrule Earth, Modern Earth, the Twilight Realm, and The Sacred Realm- where the last of the Sheikahs prosper beside the dieties.
1. Chapter 1

**To my awesome Beta reader, Nendil! **

**Hope you like the rewrite! Review! Constructive criticism is appreciated. **

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I woke up screaming like a banshee, clawing my bedsheets and scared out of my wits. The suffocating darkness in the room made me panic more.

_Just a dream... _I told myself as I unscrambled my disjointed thoughts. _Just a dream..._

I shivered from the cold and surprising silence that accompanied the room. Usually, the girl's dorm of _Frank and Dina's Group Home for Troubled Teens _was drowned out by the hissing of gossip, too loud for any normal person to get to sleep. Good thing I was able to get out of there soon... once I turned eighteen, I was going to use the checking account that my mom and dad had set up for me before they died. Then if I didn't get into a scholarship that year, I can use the money for a good college and a house...

It was going to be a _long _day tomorrow— it was the first day of a new high school after all. I brought the heavy, warm blankets around my shoulders and laid back against my comfortable pillow so I could get to sleep.

Wait... heavy, warm blankets and comfy pillows? First of all, it was the beginning of summer; all we use in summer are sheets because it gets so hot at night. Secondly, we couldn't afford those things. My roommates and I constantly shivered in my dorm room in the winter. We only had skimpy sheets and cheap comforters, not warm, knit quilts and feather pillows. We could get those things on Christmas occasionally, but they couldn't afford to buy every occupant expensive blankets and pillows. Maybe some rich guy had donated money to the organization? No... because if so, they would have used it for a new heater, insulation for the walls and some tasty food for a barbecue night. Even if they _had_ gotten the blankets, they wouldn't drape them on you in the middle of the night.

So... where was I? I sat back up hesitantly, my eyes beginning to adjust thanks to the silver streak of moonlight that shone through the cracks of a boarded-up window. I squinted through the darkness. I could make out silhouettes of large boxes strewn all over the room, one, in fact, sitting right next to my bed. A few items sat on the box closest to me. I grabbed the largest one, a rectangular object the size of a large shoebox.

It was a book. A really big book. I narrowed my eyes at the title, curious at what such an enormous book would be about. Once I made out the words, I dropped it in disbelief.

The book was called _Legends of the Four Worlds._

**(Flashback)**

** I had no idea how I got there. I must have taken a few wrong turns wile I read Harry Potter as I was walking to school. I just ended up in the middle of nowhere, where the only source of civilization was a small hut that looked like it belonged in _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. _Great... first day in a new high school, and I had gotten myself lost before I had even set foot on the campus! Perhaps whoever lived at that house could give me directions... if anybody lived there at all. **

** As soon as I knocked on the door, an old, hobbled lady rushed out and pulled me inside, yelling that she wanted to see my future. I tried to pull away and tell her that I just needed directions, but her grip was like steel shackles. **

** First she got me a glass of water**— **a glass of water that she promptly took a sip out of before giving it to me. Then she grabbed my hands and stared at me for a while before she moaned about the Fates and three goddesses, her ancient eyes staring at me for some sort of reaction. **

** When she finished, she told me she had to get her "special oil" so she could see past the "clamminess" of my future.**

** "Whatever you do, girl, do _not. Touch. Anything," _the old woman hissed before she let the beaded curtain fall behind her. She seemed like a complete fraud, and I figured I only had a couple of minutes before she came back and made me give her a urine sample so she could see what time it was going to be when I died.**

** So I did exactly what the old hag told me not to do: I touched _everything_. I scoured the bookshelves for some sort of map, but the only interesting things I found were _A: _a picture of a weird armored, green-skinned man kissing a blond woman, and _B: _a book called _Legends of the Four Worlds. _The book was ancient. I picked it up on impulse, ripping the cover open hastily and almost tearing the pages from their binding. A piece of paper stuck out noticeably from the uneven pages. Curious, I tugged at it. **

** A folded piece of paper fell into my hands. Inside, it read:**

_**You might have to escape because you are in danger.**_

_**We'll meet sooner than you think.**_

_**Your underlying and ever faithful servant,**_

** The note was ripped at the bottom. I ran my fingers over the letters in curiosity. Suddenly my skull throbbed and I fell to my knees. The world swirled and collided. Then my body felt as if it were being torn apart.**

** I woke up.**

The undeniable truth hit me dizzyingly.

My nightmare was reality.

_My nightmare is real. My nightmare is real. My nightmare is real. _The thought echoed in my head. I had actually gotten myself in a stranger's house, and then I got knocked out. Now, I was probably in some sort of prison and the creepy old lady was going to do something particularly psychopathic to me.

Well that is just... peachy.

Why did I always get myself into trouble? This was the worst and stupidest thing that had happened to me yet! I had to get back to the group home. (Wow. I never thought I'd ever think that in my entire life.) Call it gut instinct, but I knew that if I didn't get back to the orphanage soon, I probably wouldn't ever.

Suddenly, I heard gruff male voices coming from outside the door. Did these people work with the old lady or something? Had they kidnapped me? What were they going to do with me? Sell me as a slave? Murder me? Rape me?

In my panic, I grabbed the book and hid it in the darkest corner of the room. I couldn't go outside... they were coming through the only exit.

The footsteps brought the muffled voices near. I could barely make out what they were saying, but the few words I did hear were "poor"... "clothes"... "strange"... "victim"... "take". Even though I couldn't catch the conversation in-between, I had a feeling that they were planning something horrible. I inched forward and tripped over something. It was my backpack. My Harry Potter book was spilled out of it carelessly. Boy, was I glad I still had my backpack. If I had been brought to the middle of the desert or something, I had some granola bars and water bottles that would last at least an entire day after I escaped. Hopefully, a day would be long enough to get to civilization so I could phone the group home. I leaned over as quietly as possible, slipped the two books into my backpack, zipped it up, and slung it over my shoulder.

The door opened, and light flooded the room. The only place touched by darkness was the small corner I hid in. I sank into a lithe crouch, making as little sound as a leaf when it hits the surface of water.

For a moment, there was silence.

"Where did she go?" a voice asked. It was ancient and frail sounding. An old man hobbled into the room. He looked like he was in his sixties... and seemed like he preferred the style from the seventies. His gray-speckled brown hair hung in dreadlocks, almost concealing his wrinkled, coffee-colored skin. He wore a thick brown robe with Native American-styled designs; a golden winged-fish-looking thing was embroidered on the top.

"What do you mean? Is she not in there? She hasn't left that room, I'm sure of it! I guarded the door all night, and I would've noticed if she'd left," another male voice said, sounding younger than the old man. He walked in after the other man.

The guy had the physique of a bodybuilder, despite the broken arm that hung in a sling at his chest. He was in his twenties. His hair was a straw blond that shagged just above the tips of his ears. Slung on a belt at his side was a silver sheath for a sword; the hilt of the weapon peeked out from atop it. _Why would someone carry around a sword in the middle of the night?_ I thought, suspicion rising like a bubble in my chest.

The old man chuckled slightly as he replied to the man with the sword, "Are you sure she hadn't slipped out while you were sleeping?" The other guy stiffened, while I reprimanded myself for not escaping while the guard was asleep.

"I wasn't sleeping! I was just resting my eyes!" Muscle-man retorted defensively. I snorted. The two men stiffened at the noise, making me curse myself for such stupidity.

"Colin, I do not think that our guest has left this room," the old man muttered, shuffling dangerously close to my hiding place— the direction the sound came from, and the only place dark enough to hide.

"Well, she couldn't have hidden in very many places now, could she?" the other man chillingly whispered. Goosebumps crawled up my arms. "I think we need to have Lu see to her. Luda _is _very good at getting a little girl to talk," he continued. _Oh my GOD. _I thought frantically, groping through the darkness to find some sort of weapon. _What are they going to do to me?  
_The old man and the younger one lurked forward at an exceptionally slow rate... the younger man slid the sword out of its sheath.

My fingers caressed the edges of a wooden crate, still looking for a weapon. I could find nothing. Alright... I guess I'd have to use my fists then... it wasn't the first time I'd been in a fight. I sank into a defensive crouch, shuffling my backpack perfectly on my back. Wait... my backpack! Why hadn't I thought of it before?

I slipped off the pack and swung it back and forth for good measure. The younger man (Colin, the old man called him) took another hesitant step forward.

"I think I can see—" Then I whacked him over the head with my backpack. Colin stumbled over slightly before regaining his composure. "Hey! What was that for?" he yelped loudly, his voice tinged with hurt. _Quite an actor... _I thought, almost convinced into guilt, but still swung my backpack over my shoulder quickly. My right foot shifted forward as my left slid back. Colin staggered toward me, into the unwelcoming arms of the darkness.

You've got mail! He was delivered a painful left hook that sent him back several paces. I took a hesitant step into the light and Colin glared up at me. There was a slight flicker in his eyes before he lunged, grabbing both of my hands and flipping them palm upward into the light.

I gasped as I stared disbelievingly at the sight of my hands... because branded into the pink skin were the words _We'll meet sooner than you think._

"Listen. All we want is to know who you are. Then when you are well enough, you can go," Colin started, making me flick my head back up and forget my train of thought. _Focus, Corlett,_ I told myself. _What is more important is that you are captured.._He continued softly with, "We aren't going to hurt you— "

That last bit was the wrong thing to say.

Enraged, I kneed him in the groin. My captor's grip loosened, making it possible for me to wriggle my hands free. I looked around the room. Wasn't there another man?

The old man was sitting at the edge of the bed staring at me.

"_Don't _come after me," I hissed, just before darting out the door.

Two flights of crooked wooden stairs led to the bottom of the house. The gray stone walls made the room feel cold and lonely. There wasn't much downstairs, other than a boarded up window and wooden crates that were scattered all over the floor. The only ray of light I could find was from a lone torch, its flame flickering hesitantly in the darkness. I bolted down the steps as quickly as I could, not caring about the sound I made even though every step creaked. On the last step, I tripped, and my body flew onto a wooden crate.

"Colin? Is that you?" A woman's voice echoed from a small room that I had failed to see from the balcony. I stiffened before quickly pulling myself up from the wooden crate and dashing out the door.

My first thought was, _Am I in a tourist trap?_

If I hadn't seen a small boy trotting downhill on the dirt road (thankfully, he wasn't looking my way), I would have thought the place was abandoned. The town looked medieval; the buildings were made of various stones and bricks, the shingles a green-blue. Most windows were boarded up, and all of the doors were closed tight and seemingly locked. There was a tall building up the hill, large enough that if someone stood on the roof, they would see the entire town and everything beyond it for miles (a good place to rein in my bearings, honestly). Signs were hung on the roofs of buildings and laid against brick and stone. The signs were written in... the language almost looked like English, but not quite.

The terrain was hilly at best and devoid of almost all vegetation. The rocky walls that surrounded the town suggested that I was in a desert gorge.

The moon had risen ominously in the center of the sky. So many stars were visible from the lack of city lights, although I had an inkling that it wasn't just the lack of light that made the stars shine so bright. The moon and starlight glistened against a small pool accompanied by a waterfall at the bottom of the hill; it was the only place where vegetation blossomed.

I didn't know where in the world I could be. New Mexico? Arizona maybe? But those places wouldn't explain the strange-looking script.

Suddenly I heard yelling from the building I was just in. Without a second's thought, I bolted uphill. I completely swiped aside the thought of climbing the outpost to see where I was as the blond haired man, Colin, rushed outside. The ground was gravelly, and extremely hard to run uphill on... but that meant it would be just as hard for him to catch me. That is, if he ran up to catch me instead of getting in his car.

I cursed inwardly. He was probably going to get in his car! I was doomed.

I hurried up the steep slope nevertheless, though with much less enthusiasm as before. I needed to save my energy for when he came with his vehicle.

But he didn't.

When I was finally at the top of the hill, I reached a strange closed gate. It was black and red, like death and blood. The top was framed with arrowhead-like spikes and the surface of the rest was barbed to the touch. At the head of the fence, straight smack-dab in the middle, were two bloodied horns faced inward. I shivered and pressed my fingers between two barbs. There was no way I was going to get past this gate unwounded.

"Get the postman! We have to contact Link!" I heard Colin call from below. I guess I was going to have to try my luck with this gate after all. I didn't know why this guy was so important, and why they would use a postman instead of a telephone to contact him. Maybe there was no cell service? Anyway, I couldn't take my chances. The guy could have been a Russian assassin for all I knew... an alien assassin, maybe. I was the orphaned daughter of Eve and Wilder Fantasi. They were going to come after me...

First I tried to kick it open, the rubber of my Converse thick enough for the barbs not to cut through to my toes. Though the gate didn't budge. Sighing in defeat, I pressed both of my palms on the barbed gate and pushed. I hissed when the metal cut into my skin, but I kept shoving. The gate groaned open slowly. Finally, when the gate was cracked open just enough for me to slip through, I was gone.

…

Running. It seems like that's the only thing I've ever done. Run.

When I had first joined the track team, my Physical Education teacher asked me if I had been on the track team in elementary and middle school, and if not, how I had gotten so great at it. My (somewhat arrogant) response was:

"Sir, I have run my entire life. If I wasn't good at it by now, I'd be worried." I ran from friendships, boyfriends, my parents, my emotions, failure, death, blood, and in this case, a mob of crazy people that wanted to capture me.

At least I exercised.

As soon as I had exited that gate, I found myself in a field, the grass blotched across the dry dirt. A few trees grew here and there in the grassy meadow. Puddles of water scattered on the ground. A well-used road led out from my right, and a less worn trail to my left.

I went left.

I should have gone right.

As I sprinted on, I thought back to the mysterious book in my backpack. What did it mean? Why did my captors take it with me? Didn't it belong to the old lady? A wave of unease doused me. There was no reason my kidnappers would bring the book I had held in my hand before I had been knocked out.

I stopped for a quick breath and looked around feebly. The sun was beginning to rise above the mountains. Thank God those weird creatures from earlier were gone. Err... if there had been creatures at all. I must have just been tired, or maybe I had a concussion, because I could swear that when the moon was high in the sky, I saw a living, walking wolf that was only made of bones.

Yep, I definitely had a concussion. I started to walk instead of run... running probably wasn't healthy in my condition. I dunno... I had never really paid attention in health class. (I was too preoccupied with giving googly eyes to my soon-to-be-boyfriend-before-he-turned-out-to-be-a-complete-ass, who sat two seats to my left.)

Once I had walked far enough away, I thought that maybe it was safe enough for a little rest. I flopped to the ground, took off my backpack, and leaned against the bare bark of a tree. I watched the sun climb over the tips of the mountains.

Then I started thinking about the book again. With a silent curse, I leaned forward and pulled the book from my backpack. It was heavier than I remembered.

The cover was simply a thick brown leather, the title, _Legends of the Four Worlds, _etched into the center and painted an evergreen. I carefully lifted the cover and turned the first page. There wasn't an index, just a simple painting.

The painting was of three golden triangles, all formed to make a fourth larger triangle. My eyes glazed over as I stared. The simple shape seemed _so_ familiar!

I turned the page. Another painting was on this side.

There was an armored green-skinned man who was swordfighting a guy clad in green. The green man looked just like the one in the picture I had found in the old lady's house! Same nose, same red hair, same evil grin, same glinting, arrogant yellow eyes.

The other guy had golden blond hair, feral blue eyes and a stubborn look set on his face.

I glanced at the other side. There were words, but they were written in a completely different language... the same one that had been on the signs at the tourist trap. I flipped the page. More words with the same characters. It went on for quite a bit like this, until a fourth of the way through, where I found different picture for the new story that was going to be told.

I stared at the illustration on the page. Was this why they had brought the book? If so, it was cruel. Crueler than anything I could have thought up.

A woman, a man, and a strange-looking baby were in the middle of the painting. The baby was not of the human race. It had curly red hair, beady pupilless red eyes, and olive-green skin. The other two were human, however. The woman had brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. Her eyes shone with the love and patience that I hadn't thought a painting would be able to capture properly. The man wore extremely large glasses that made his green eyes look ten times bigger. His black hair was spindly and short.

My parents.

Surrounding the trio were loaded machine guns carried by men in gray suits.

I remember the discovery. I don't exactly know how they found the baby, but when the news got out, it was all over the world. It was on the papers, the news, the internet, billboards... everywhere. I could remember the bold headlines that read, _**WE ARE NOT ALONE**_**.** Dad even wrote a book about Billy (the baby).

Every Sunday Billy would go to the lab, but otherwise, he was raised as our own. I got a new brother... and even though he wasn't very bright and he was from another planet, we all loved him.

My life was perfect. We would never have to worry about money ever again.

But then the break-in occurred. A woman with silvery white eyes and flaming red hair broke into the house unannounced while I was watching Billy. She shuffled into the living room while I was changing his diaper upstairs. When I heard her talking to herself downstairs, I immediately grabbed Dad's gun from under the wooden board beside the upstairs pantry.

She saw me instantly.

"Don't worry." Her voice sounded disembodied as if from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. "I'm not going to hurt you," she told me. I lowered my gun to the ground.

"What are you doing in my house?" I hissed. _Thank God I had put the baby down upstairs. _

"Looking for something,"

"In _my_ house?" The baby started bawling upstairs.

"Yes. You have something that belongs to me," she said, seemingly smiling under the cloak that covered her nose and mouth. Before I knew it, I was pushed up against the wall, making strangled gasping noises as her fingers pressed against my throat. Black spots danced in my vision from the lack of air.

"Yes," she coaxed slightly as the baby wailed up stairs. "Just like that," The world went black.

I later found that she had stolen Billy. The family was heartbroken. Mom and Dad spent the rest of their lives looking for the lost child, though it was nowhere to be found.

One night, a few years ago, a couple found my parents dead in an alley between the mall and Ruby Tuesday's. One bullet went straight through my mother's head, one in my father's. When they preformed the autopsy, they found three bullet puncture wounds in my father, not just one, though they looked recently sealed up and there was only one bullet inside of him. One went straight through his lung, one pierced his heart and the last—of course—his skull. No one knows how the bullets got out of him for these wounds, or how Dad had survived long enough for the heart wound to seal.

My tears splattered onto the pages, smudging the ink. I barely noticed that _this _story was written in English; I was too absorbed in my memories. Memories such as the ones when I was small... the image of my dad hefting me over his shoulder and joking that he'd throw me in the washing machine if I didn't take a shower. How, when I was little, my mother would brush her fingers through my hair as I told her how my day at school was. What my dad always said, that "making mistakes is just another way of saying, 'a learning experience'." The day my mom finally decided to go eighth grade school shopping with me, and gasping at almost every shirt at every rack.

I slammed the book closed before I could look at it any longer. I wanted to throw it into the deepest fiery pit of hell, but instead, I shoved the book into my backpack and started to trudge onward, tears still streaking down my face. My slow trudging turned into a full out run.

I ran until I tripped on the roots of a tree. I pulled myself to my feet and glanced at the rest of the field. What I saw in the distance took my breath away.

Lit by the newly risen sun beyond the hills was an enormous castle. From my viewpoint, I could see tall walls and dozens of towers. The tallest tower rose almost completely into the clouds. Where would I be to be close enough to a large, ancient-looking castle?! England maybe? Spain?

_Great, _I thought. _Now how am I going to get home? I'm probably not even in America!_

I hesitantly trekked onward. Somehow, even in the morning sun, I still felt freezing. Wherever I was, it must have different time zones, because in North Carolina it was early summer.

I scanned the horizon as I walked, trying to forget the illustration in _The Legends of the Four Worlds. _A bridge loomed in the distance. Hopefully, it led to civilization. I hurried my pace toward it.

Something was pacing on the bridge noticeably. My eyes narrowed, trying to get a better look at it. When I came close enough to see it clearly, my breath flew from my lungs.

_No_. It's not possible.

"Billy?" I whispered. The figure turned, its beady red eyes settling on me. No, it definitely wasn't Billy. It was a much older alien... though they were absolutely the same species. They both had the beady, pupilless red eyes, the under-bite, the green skin.

"_GERRRRRAAAAHHHHHUUUULLL!" _The Billy-creature jogged toward me with its club raised. Thankfully, it was pretty slow and once it was off the bridge, I was running past it onto the bridge.

Honestly, the structure didn't seem very stable. It may have been made of marble, but it had cracks running through the entire thing and some even completely reached both sides, as if the middle had been gouged out at one point in time. I looked back at the Billy-creature. It was fuming and running back at me with its club raised.

I stepped into the middle and cautiously hurried toward the other side.

_Crack! _I stiffened and whipped my head back. The thing with the club was coming toward me and screaming, though that didn't scare me. What scared me was, when the thing stepped in the middle, the bridge made disturbing sounds.

_Crrrack! _Then I realized what was going on. The bridge was snapping. Frantic, I made a beeline for the other side.

I never made it.

The bridge broke. I could feel the ground tipping unsteadily. I stumbled to my knees and clawed at the smooth marble of the bridge, but I couldn't find any handholds as the bridge tipped further.

I fell screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

**HEY! WAZZUP?! I know, I know. I am an absolutely horrible person for not updating for so long, but I have the third chapter already finished, anyway, and I will post it ASAP. **

**Don't hate me for this chapter! I know it is not as long as the first. Trust me and hold out for the next one. You won't be disappointed! **

**Also, thanks to my FANTASTICAL beta-reader, Nendil, this chapter is at its 'best' (If you find any errors tell me!). A "Woot! Woot!" to that amazing beta reader!**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Conor tilted his head back to warm his face in the midday sun. He was on the outskirts of Lake Hylia, where Day, his beautiful gray-speckled mare, had stopped for a moment to graze, letting her rider bask in the sweet summer heat.

Hyrule was incredible at this time of year. The lake glistened in the sunlight, and small ripples peppered across the surface of the water. The sky was a clear, cloudless blue. A cool breeze rustled through Conor's sandy blond hair.

Conor was relieved that he had gotten away. For months he hadn't been able to escape the practice of sword-fighting, archery, hand-to-hand combat, and the arduous training exercise of running through the Gerudo Desert in a full suit of armor. It was summer, and he believed that he should be flirting with merchants' daughters and watching girls-who were wearing nothing but their undergarments- dive into the deepest, coldest parts of Lake Hylia.

Since he'd gotten away, he spent most of his time lounging about and taking out girls for a drink or a dance at Telma's bar. The only time he thought about his home was when he felt that unyielding urge to save people that he had inherited from his father. The reaction annoyed Conor extremely. Usually, it caused an ' act now, think later' response that ruined his day.

That urge instantaneously was triggered that day when he heard a high pitched shriek. It was a woman's scream, so loud that he was sure that even Falbi the clown could hear it from his post atop the cliffs. Conor impulsively pulled his mare's reins sharply toward the scream. Day reared, almost throwing her master, and bolted in the direction of the sound. He could hear the woman's choked sob. "Oh goddesses…"

She wasn't very far away. She was hidden in the bushes by the lake, kneeling next to someone, a dainty yet calloused hand covering her mouth. A flash of recognition flickered over him before a growing worry. Considering it was this young woman who screamed—Rhea, the daughter of Ashei, a knight and Guardian of Hyrule, and Shad the storyteller and scientist- the situation must be dire.

Rhea turned around, sensing him behind her. As soon as she saw him, her hazel eyes hardened. She drew herself up stoically as she wiped the tears that were brimming under her lids.

"Conor," she whispered, "thank the goddesses you are here. Look." Her last word came out like a strangled cry. Conor dismounted fluidly, and she moved away from whomever she was kneeling by. It was a girl about his age-sixteen or seventeen- lying motionless on the damp ground.

She was the strangest-looking girl Conor had ever seen. She wore sky blue trousers that clung to her thighs and hips, but were baggy around the ankles, as if the trousers were designed specifically for her. They were made of a thick, rough fabric that Conor figured was for durability as much as warmth. An oddly-cut black tunic cascaded down her torso. Embossed on the chest of the tunic were foreign runes and a strange, glossy emblem of a tongue rolled out between red lips and white teeth. Spotted feather earrings hung limply on her earlobes, and a necklace with a beautiful heart-shaped pendant sat in the crook of her neck. Clad on her feet were black leather boots that matched her black pack.

She was deeply tanned; her skin just barely dark enough for her to pass as Gerudo. Her thick dark brown hair was cut in short, uneven layers against her scalp, making her look like she was wearing an oversized ferret on her head. She had a regal, pompous nose, little to no muscle, perfectly manicured nails that were painted blue, and soft-skinned hands that proved that she had never worked a day in her life. Conor figured she had probably been of noble blood.

Most importantly: she was completely and utterly dead.

Her clothes were soaked in lakewater and her own blood. Swollen skin distorted her face and arms. Slash marks and bruises covered the poor girl from head to toe. Blood pooled from a wound on her head and broken bones could be seen jutting out from under her flesh. Her body was twisted backward, which made Conor suspect that her spine was broken.

The creepiest thing about her were the eyes. They were staring wide open in what looked like shock. Conor thought that a person's eyes would look dim and lifeless after they died, but her leafy green irises seemed to glow in their sockets, as if someone had infused them with faries.

Resisting the urge to upheave his breakfast, Conor kneeled by the girl and placed two fingers over her lips and under her nose. She wasn't breathing. He then placed his fingers in the hollow of her neck, just to make sure. There was no pulse.

Conor sighed. "Did you know her, Rhea?" He heard Rhea sniff.

"No."

He sighed again. "Do you know how she..." He gestured to the girl's broken leg and her bloodied skull. Rhea shook her head.

"I don't know anything about her. I only came across her accidentally. Though she looks as if she has been shoved down Eldin Gorge."

He agreed-she did look like that; but Conor's eyebrows furrowed. "Shoved? Don't you think she could have-"

"Jumped? " Rhea finished. With Conor's brisk nod she continued. "No, Conor. I do not. Either she was pushed in or she fell. Most likely the former, considering the last person who fell off Eldin Bridge was the Bulbin King,"

"How do you know she didn't jump? "

"Gut feeling, " They left it at that.

With a weary sigh, Conor gently closed the dead girl's eyes with two fingers.

"May she rest peacefully in the Silent Realm," he murmured. Rhea fumbled for her dagger behind him. Once she had it, she grasped the girl's right hand, so that she could place the dagger in her palm.

When Rhea opened the girl's clenched fists, however, she gasped.

"C-Conor, look." Rhea flipped the girl's upturned palm toward him. Conor sucked in his breath. The girl had been branded. Had she been a slave?

He grabbed her hand to examine the brand and ran his thumb over the strange runes. The burn was warm... warmer than a living person's skin would feel, much less a corpse.

Frowning, Conor leaned over the body to grab the other hand so he could check for more brands or scars that would indeed prove that she had been exchanged in slavery. Conor's skin grazed the top of the girl's left hand.

Abruptly, an burning pain traveled up his arm and to his chest. The pain spread quickly through his body like poison. Conor's heartbeat accelerated as the pain intensified and he screamed. It felt like he was losing himself in this pain. He was draining away, his name, his personality, his conscience, his entire identity... gone. He would rather be stabbed with a sword a million times and have all of his limbs severed from his body than to endure the torment any longer. He would rather die. Time was meaningless to him as the pain streaked through his veins as if it had replaced his blood.

And then it stopped.

Conor collapsed next to the corpse, gasping and blinking the tears from his eyes. As he came to, he realized that Rhea had just torn his hand from the girl's flesh. He tried to sit up, but exhaustion made him flop back down to the wet grass. He felt as if he had just tried to wrestle with an armored dragon.

"Conor, ar-" Rhea was interrupted by a distinct crack. The two cautiously shifted their stares to the dead girl.

Her eyes had somehow flicked open again. The green light wasn't just emitting from her eyes now, though. It glowed from her ears, nostrils and gaping mouth as well.

The corpse shifted sideways unnaturally with a loud pop. Conor struggled to breathe. Broken bones shifted and cracked as they readjusted before mending. Skin knitted together over deep bleeding gouges and scrapes. Dark purple blotches and swollen skin smoothed out and turned to a healthy pallor.

The glow faded into nothing. The girl's irises turned to a deep, storm-cloud grey and her eyes fluttered shut. Her head lolled peacefully to the side. Conor and Rhea blinked hesitantly as they watched her chest rise and lower in time with her breathing. A soft snore emitted from her throat.

She looked as if she hadn't been dead a few minutes ago; like she had simply taken a nap near Lake Hylia. The only evidence that showed that she had been wounded at all was the blood that drenched her strange clothes and soaked the silt.

Conor whimpered unheroically, causing the former dead girl to stir.

Conor had heard of the Princess Zelda once giving up her life force to save the Twilight Princess. He had heard of the accursed dead rising to become the Redead that guard the Arbiter Grounds. He had heard of the Zora peoples living in suspended animation when frozen. He had even heard of many instances of people (his father, for example) surviving extreme wounds that usually would kill… but this girl had been dead. When dead, you weren't supposed to come back- at least you, weren't supposed to come back fully healed and breathing evenly, as if nothing had ever happened.

The only person who had ever come back from the dead the way this girl had... was Ganondorf.

If Conor hadn't been so weak, he would have grasped the handle of his sword for reassurance.

The King of Evil was the subject of children's nightmares. Mothers warned their children to come back to the house before dark: the threat of Ganondorf was the only thing keeping young ones in line. Even after the Twilit Year, speaking the name of wielder of the triforce of power was almost taboo. Twilight was usually time for silence, reminiscence for those who were lost, and a look of loathing toward the setting sun. Though, no one had been affected more by the year of twilight than Conor's father.

Conor regarded the former dead girl wearily from his position on the ground. They would have to keep an eye on her in case she was potentially threatening.

They probably needed to tie the girl up. He just had to... had to... grab a rope from... from his bag that rested on Day's saddle... It was on Day's saddle right? Or maybe... maybe...

• • •

Rhea glanced over at her still friend worriedly, relaxing soon after Conor let out a loud, continuous snore. For a moment, she had thought him dead.

She shot an apprehensive look to the soaked girl. Her eyelids were fluttering, and she was taken with fits of shivering.

Reluctance battled with her maternal instinct. She remembered what happened when Conor had touched the girl's skin. Despite her better sense, Rhea rose from her sitting position and strode to Conor's grazing mare. She tugged the heavy wool blanket from beneath the mare's saddle and turned to carefully drape it over the shivering girl. It dampened, absorbing some of the water and blood that drenched the girl, but in Rhea's opinion, a slightly wet blanket was better than nothing at all.

No one deserves to freeze to death.

Rhea spun around and started to gather driftwood to make a fire.

Ten minutes later, Rhea sat, warming her hands against flickering orange flames. Rhea turned to glance back at the girl. She grinned to find the once shaking form still. The girl's body slumped onto her bag, head lolled back, left hand lying on her rising chest. Rhea figured that it probably wasn't very comfortable.

She crawled to where the girl lay and sat her upright. The girl's head rolled onto her shoulder. Rhea then proceeded to carefully strip the seventeen-year old of her large, bulky pack and put it aside. She gingerly moved her to a drier patch of grass, grabbed the woolen blanket, and stuffed it under her head to use as a pillow. The girl's breath stayed steady and deep.

The sleeping teenager's left hand slipped onto the grass.

The effect was almost spontaneous. Every blade of grass withered and died. The root that graced her skin turned black and deadness seeped up the trunk of a nearby tree, its leaves turned brittle and an unhealthy shade of yellow. The life faded from its branches. Insects that grazed her flesh thrashed, then stiffened.

Rhea muffled her scream in the palm of her hand and scuttled away with wide eyes.

This girl had the hands of death.


	3. Chapter 3

**HELLO MY AWESOME READERS! I have uploaded the third chapter... Thank you Skysword for reviewing the last chapter! Reviews aren't necessary, but they sure do make my day! (They also inspire me to write faster... hint hint...)**

**This story is sponsored by Nendil Beta-ing Co. :D Thanks Nendil! You are the BOMB!**

* * *

Queen Midna of the Twilight Realm sighed as she gazed out a window at the Twili Kingdom. The quiet respite of the topmost tower of the castle was always the perfect place for Midna to think. The stress had been eating at her and, to her dread, her once vibrant hair was dulled by streaks of gray. The first showings of gray had been years ago, and it had only been at her roots. Midna was surprised that her hair hadn't dimmed much sooner.

Returning from the Light World had been difficult. At first when Midna was banished from her world, the only thing on her mind had been getting back and regaining her place at the throne. Zant had taken something that was rightfully hers, tormented her people, and vengeance was going to be paid. Who cared what happened to the Light World? Who cared if the "hero" she was using was wounded or even killed in the process of helping her? That world was only a temporary residence, and the wolf-boy was simply a pawn.

How could she have been so naive? How could she have been such a fool?

Midna grew to love the Light World. She loved the way the sun set and rose in beautiful colors each day. She loved the complete darkness at night, the white clouds, and the blues in the sky. Midna adored the Light World food, when Twilight cuisine, in comparison, was too bland and tasteless to be even a mere peasant's food. Midna loved the creatures, the people, the architecture, the culture, the moon, the stars, the stories, the _rain_, the snow, and the abundance of sounds and scents. Most of all, she was in love with the blue-eyed, pale-skinned, pointy-eared Hylian hero, Link.

At first, Midna had found the noble idiot to be quite stupid, but he grew on her quickly. Eventually, she called his daftness endearingly innocent, and his thick skull rivaled her own. Link showed her the true powers of compassion and duty. He taught her how to love, and once she began to truly love, he was what she loved the most.

When she had first realized that she was in love with her feral-eyed beast, Midna had still been a tiny, ugly imp. She had feared that she would never be able to confess her feelings to the Ordon goat-herder. Despite that, Midna swore that she would do anything for Link: even die for him.

In the end, she did just that. If not for the light spirits of Hyrule, she would never have had the choice to return to her kingdom. They brought her back, and Link was speechless in the presence of her true form. She confessed her feelings to him, and that night… that night they…

To return to her kingdom once more had been like an icy sword in her heart, but she had duties to perform. As she stood at the entrance of the portal, she was tempted to leave the mirror intact. If Midna kept the portal guarded, then maybe she could come back and visit. She could see Link again. She could ask Zelda for advise. She could-

No.

She and Zelda have already discussed this. If Midna left the portal open, inhabitants from both worlds would venture through and meet certain deaths: Twili people from overexposure to the sun, and Lightworlders by turning into spirits. No one deserved such a fate.

So she destroyed the mirror. The last Midna saw of the light world was Link with a look of horror in his eyes and a silent cry upon his lips.

Something inside Midna died that day.

The Twili people rejoiced when they saw her return, unheeding of the fact that they were still in their imp forms. Midna put on a brave face, "celebrated" with her people, suffered through a feast with the nobles (the food was horrible), and finally fled to the topmost tower of the palace, where she found her old nursemaid, Apmi, sitting in an old rocking chair, staring out the window at the destroyed kingdom. After only a few words from Apmi, Midna had broken down in her arms.

The next few months were spent returning the Twili people to their original forms, mourning, reforming old alliances, and brooding. Midna hoped that one day, she would be able to forget her love for Link, or at least overcome the grief of leaving him.

She should have known that forgetting about her Hylian knight in shining armor was too much to ask. Damn the Goddesses! Midna was overcome with mood swings and symptoms of the light world sickness called influenza. When she was diagnosed, it was revealed that she was three months pregnant.

With Link's baby.

Midna was as horrified as she was overjoyed. She was going to give birth to a child of two worlds: a forbidden baby. Fearing for her child, Midna prayed that the child would look nothing like its father. If it didn't, then the fact that it was a half-breed could possibly be hidden.

No such luck.

A few months later, a babe was born with pink Hylian ears, unnaturally vibrant cornflower blue skin, plump, cherubic lips, a tuft of red hair, and sapphire blue eyes. Blue eyes. In the Twilight Realm, blue eyes were as unheard of as sunlight.

However, all fear of what the kingdom would think disappeared when Midna held her little princess close to her chest. She knew that her daughter was what she loved above all else, and no matter what, that was never going to change.

All hope of forgetting Link was long past. Every time those blue eyes pierced hers, her lost love appeared in her mind. She may never stop grieving her Ordonian wolf, but that only made her swear that she would never let the same thing happen to her child.

When it was revealed that the newborn princess's father was a Lightworlder, the public fired off question after question like a school of hungry jawfish. Some were completely harmless, asking questions about what he looked like and what resemblances the baby had to her father. Other inquiries were completely inappropriate, questioning about what sex with a Lightworlder was like. Obviously, those questions were not answered. A researcher named Nillep stupidly tried to con her into giving up her child for experimenting purposes. Nillep was smacked so hard he flew back at least five feet and the crowd stilled into a silence. Midna stepped toward his crumpled form and crouched down next to the idiot, her breath brushing up against his pointed, Twili ear.

In the deafening silence all could hear her speak.

"If anyone even _thinks_ about touching _one hair on her head, _ you can be sure that I will go back to the barbaric ways. I am sure that the offender's head would look _impressive _stuck above the mantelpiece," Midna threatened, drawing her voice into a dangerous purr.

The people left her alone for the most part after that.

Years passed. The kingdom rebuilt and expanded. The people fell into a sense of false security and peace. Midna's little girl, Falinstar, grew up. Having missed her daughter's first word ("bad"), Midna put every minute of the next six years into raising her princess. At the age of seven, Falinstar showed great potential in the physical training that Apmi had insisted on, as well as practical magic. But when the kingdom began to fall into political turmoil from of the neglect of its monarch, Midna had to go back to her rule, leaving her daughter to be raised by her nursemaid.

The first person she had the _pleasure _of meeting on her way to the chamber room was a suitor. After she had turned him away and banned him from the castle –without even rewarding the imbecile with a single insult, she might add (she was slightly proud at her show of self-control)–Midna had marched to lead councilman, Regulus, and demanded to know why in Farore's floral green knickers such a dunderhead could weasel into her palace in the first place.

It turned out that the council was awaiting her to wed a suitor so she could become the Twilight Queen. That revelation left tears of mirth brimming in her lids and hysterical laughter echoing in the room as the councilmen gazed on disapprovingly. They expected her_ –_Midna, mother of a Half-breed princess, Queen of Mischief, rider of the Light world's hero– _her, _to marry a suitor! Ha! _When a bullbo flies! _She thought and then turned to the council.

"Why would I need a husband? You saw what Zant did! Men! I _saved_ the Twili from being stuck as monsters and destroyed Zant! I am already your Queen, am I not? I do everything that a Queen does, and I am the last heir to the throne! Why in Din's temper would I need to marry?"

An awkward silence followed, as no one could possibly refute, and if they could they wouldn't unless they desired to seem disrespectful to the princess– no, _queen– _of Twilight_._ Midna was crowned the next day, much to the public's displeasure of not following tradition.

Midna started with her duties and in her spare time, she tried to visit her daughter as frequently as possible. When she was young, her mother had been consumed by the duties of a queen, and Midna had grown to resent her. She dreaded that the same rift would be created between her and Falinstar.

During her stopovers with her daughter, Midna realized that Falinstar had a certain streak of mischief and rebellion, much like her own when Midna was young. The first prank Falinstar pulled was frightening on Midna's part, but altogether harmless. Falinstar had disappeared from her bedroom during one of the council meetings. They searched for hours, and Midna was frantic by the time they had finally found her. Falinstar had decided to hide out in the head councilman's bathroom. At first Midna didn't know, nor care why she was in there. She was only relieved to find her princess safe.

Falinstar's reason for being in the councilman's bathroom revealed itself when every council member, including Midna, woke up the next morning with green hair. It turned out that Regulus's bathroom wasn't the only one that was visited that night. Midna lightly scolded Falinstar as she did what was expected, but then leaned down and told her daughter in a whisper, "Green was a little amateur, darling. Try hair remover next time."

The next prank, in Midna's opinion, was extremely impressive. Falinstar managed to turn each castle resident partially invisible for three days. Midna wore a hat over her invisible head, lightly joking with the less prudish councilmen that she needn't worry about her hair and makeup any longer. It was when Falinstar tripped Apmi down several flights of stairs that Midna started to get wary. Falinstar was prohibited to her room for two days afterward.

It was when Falinstar shouted down through her window at the castle guards that the castle was under attack, causing the entire kingdom to turn into stampeding, screaming savages, that made Midna decide that her daughter was really getting out of hand. The last prank Falinstar was allowed to pull in front of her mother was when she was eleven. Falinstar had run into a council meeting sobbing, and when Midna had finally managed to calm her down, the words "He tried to kill me, Ma!... He tried to kill me!"

Midna's heart had leapt into her throat. The entire castle was searched until ancient Apmi revealed that Falinstar had been in her room all night, and when she had ventured out, two guards had accompanied her. When the guards were questioned, they nodded the affirmative, adding that once they had gotten to the council room, Falinstar had told them that they were dismissed, much to their protest.

After a screaming match with her daughter, Midna went to bed that night extremely discouraged. That first bit of gray showed itself to Midna that night.

Whispers of rebellion against the kingdom leaked through to her intelligence. Rumors circulated towns and gossip groups. But somehow, life still went on. Falinstar grew older and at the age of thirteen, Midna saw that her daughter was becoming the epitome of grace and beauty. Falinstar was starting to grow into her skin, with her mother's nose and her father's eyes. Her vibrant red hair had streaks of shimmering gold. Her skin markings were beginning to come in and some encircled her eyes like a mask, illuminating her eyes. Her limbs were long and elegant. The Young princess grew to gazing at the council members and castle guards with cold disdain.

She was fourteen when she looked at her mother the same way. Midna was devastated. That year, the crime rate shot up tenfold. Merchants increased their security significantly and weapons were selling like there was no tomorrow.

On Falinstar's fifteenth birthday, there was an attempt on Midna's life. It was a pathetic attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

Security increased dramatically. It was a rare occurrence when someone of the royal family wasn't accompanied by security. Falinstar took up swordfighting, politics, and dance —all of which she was excellent at. She moved to the advanced class for swordfighting and dance immediately. When Falinstar sparred it was like a dangerous dance. Every move was graceful and efficient, but she changed tactics so often that her opponent never knew the significance of her moves until the last thrust or swipe of her sword. Falinstar was disturbingly extraordinary at determining the motives of people and persuading others that her point of view was the best way to see things.

Dance was something that Midna hadn't even thought of her daughter taking up, but because of her long, Twili limbs, Falinstar was very graceful in her performances. Despite the coldness of her daughter's actions toward her, Midna shone with pride.

Four months later, Falinstar was caught sneaking out of the palace. Midna still didn't know where she had been headed, but she was thankful that her daughter had been caught, because only days later, a revolt occurred. The marketplace was burned to the ground. Ten people were killed and eighteen wounded. Only one of the rebels was caught and she committed suicide before she could give up any information. At the time, no one knew why there was a revolt in the first place.

When Falinstar was sixteen, she was often found missing from her bed afterhours. No one saw her leave. No one saw her return. When confronted the next morning, she would insist that she had been in her bed. Midna knew otherwise. She wouldn't have cared in the least about her daughter's late night excursions (she had done it herself at her age), had the revolts not gotten so out of hand. They happened nearly every night and only when most were in their beds, the cowards. Midna was glad that the orange twilight never faded in the late hours of the night, unlike in the light world.

When Falinstar turned seventeen, Midna proposed she could choose a suitor. Young men from around the kingdom came to court her. Princess Falinstar was the most ideal bride in the Twilight Realm, and it wasn't only because of the power that came with marrying her. She was very attractive, with her strange blue eyes and unnatural, vibrant cornflower blue skin. Her skin markings glowed slightly, suggesting magical prowess, and the ones around her eyes brought out her aristocratic features.

But Falinstar disappointed them all—and bruised all of their egos. The princess turned the suitors away with clever and witty insults. Midna tried to act embarrassed, but was silently shining with pride. Falinstar not only had a mind of her own, but an intelligent one. The princess turned from being the most ideal bride to the most undesirable woman.

When Falinstar was eighteen, the revolts evolved into an all-out civil war. The rebels demanded the monarchy to be removed from the government system.

Midna considered the idea. She understood the logic of the idea but knew she would have to decline. There were too many negative connotations and unanswered questions to agreeing with the rebels' foolish plan. Who was going to take care of taxes? Who was supposed to divide jobs in the government to other people? Wouldn't there be more of a chance for corruption if the government was ruled by the people? Wouldn't a leader who had been _raised _to lead be more trustworthy?

There were also personal reasons why Midna didn't like that idea. If the people didn't need a queen any longer, what was her purpose? Midna left Link to become the queen… so now she was supposed to destroy her duty? What would she do then? What would be left of her life? Being queen was the only thing Midna ever knew!

Falinstar, on the other hand, was strangely unopposed to the idea. Actually, if Midna had interpreted her daughter's subtle comments correctly, she _supported _it. Falinstar urged her mother to accept the proposal.

Midna declined.

After that, the people of the Twilight Realm split into two groups. The rebels called themselves the Hazafis people. Everyone else called them barbaric. People stayed in their homes, as venturing outside was a dangerous pastime.

Falinstar became even more distant and cold, if possible. She stopped hiding that she was sneaking out and sometimes even left in the middle of the day. No one knew how she got out, considering that every window was warded and every door guarded.

Falinstar was nineteen now, and Midna thirty-seven.

Midna felt and looked older. Her once-vibrant red hair was now streaked with gray. Her skin markings were dulled and her red eyes didn't hold the spark of mischief that they once had before returning to the twilight world. The stress from over the years made Queen Midna's heart sad and tired.

She watched the people go into their houses and the market clear out. Flags rippled in the breeze. Midna gazed on. It was strangely soothing to watch the sleeping kingdom and rolling black clouds.

Suddenly, a cloaked figure appeared in Midna's line of sight. It was running on the roof of the palace! And it was coming from Falinstar's room! Everyone knew that the rebels wore long, dark cloaks. Was that figure an assassin? Had it hurt her baby?

Nearly delirious in the fear for her daughter, Midna was ready to bolt to her room, but something held her frozen in place, watching the figure in growing paranoia.

The cloaked person trotted to a stop for a moment to stretch, the cloak tightening around a definitely female body shape. A small, yellow triangle glowed on the back of the figure's right hand before fading into the skin, sending Midna reeling in shock and unable to breathe. Had she imagined that? Midna hadn't seen that shape since she was in the light world.

Whomever that cloaked woman was, she was a bearer of the Triforce.

The cloaked figure started to run across the roof, gaining speed. Queen Midna's gaze traveled upward to the figure's destination. Red eyes widened further. _There is no way she is going to make that jump—even with magic._

The figure reached the edge of the roof, rolled, and pushed her hands off the edge of the roof. Midna held her breath. The figure launched herself into midair, did an impressive gymnastics spin, and rolled onto the roof of a nobleman's home.

_Impossible, _Midna thought, astounded. _That gap was more than sixty feet. _

The black-cloaked woman waited on that roof for a few moments before other cloaked figures emerged from the darkness. Some climbed up gutters and others ran across rooftops to meet with her. When they had all gathered on one roof, the black-cloaked woman greeted each with an embrace or a pat on the back. They seemed to speak to each other for a moment before the woman looked back at the castle, blue eyes flashing dangerously.


End file.
